


Narcissism

by TheBuggu



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Non-Consensual Groping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBuggu/pseuds/TheBuggu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He belonged to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Narcissism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [searchinggalaxies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchinggalaxies/gifts).



> This a belated ficlet for Breasayshi on tumblr! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy my interpretation of Sunstreaker.
> 
> Warnings are in the tags!
> 
> EDIT: This was inspired by this post on tumblr.   
> http://thebuggu.tumblr.com/post/114613421760/bibliotecaria-d-somebody-write-a-fic-where

“So, Sunstreaker,” Mirage purred as he approached.

Suntreaker instantly tightened his servo around the cube of energon he held and glared down at it. He said nothing.

“I notice how your frame is always so eloquent. Who's the lucky mech, hm?” Mirage questioned with a friendly enough tone and took a seat beside him. He rested his chin atop his servos and eyed Sunstreaker with a coy smirk. “You must be keeping appearances for _someone_.”

Sunstreaker didn't waste any time to stand up from the table. He swiped his cube off of its surface and turned away. Silently, he stalked towards to mess hall's exit. He glared at Bluestreak when the blabbermouth tried to greet him and stormed out.

To many, Sunstreaker was unbearable glitch who flaunted his perfect looks. To Sunstreaker, they were lucky he wasn't trigger happy. He's heard it all before: lewd compliments about his frame, desperate pleas to interface, boasting and bragging that implied he should be impressed. Sunstreaker despised it; these days he didn't acknowledge such pathetic attempts to get under his grill.

The first of many—hundreds, thousands even—incidents he remembered had happened during the Golden Age. He and Sideswipe were young. Naive. Innocent. Whatever the most appropriate term one could use that would translate into being easily taken advantage of. Something brushed against his aft while they had entered the public transit. It was a faint, ghost of a touch. It had surprised Sunstreaker, but in the masses of other mechs he has shrugged it off someone accidentally bumping into him. But it happened again. And again. And _again_. And **again**. Sunstreaker had grown paranoid and afraid.

He decided, after silent consideration of the occurrences, and he convinced his brother to change their routes. Sideswipe didn't share his twin's reservations.

Whenever they walked together, Sunstreaker positioned himself at Sideswipe's side. Sideswipe never seemed to think anything of it, but for Sunstreaker, it was a barrier between himself and the mechs they walked by. But, eventually even those measures became null. Mechs catcalled him. They whistled and hollered and winked and made vulgar gestures. And then, the groping returned.

Fear of harassment slowly cracked and tumbled away. Anger replaced it.

Sunstreaker recalled the first time he punched the closest slagger after being touched on a bad day.

That finally got a point across. Mechs began to give him some space. At least, until some grew bolder. A few tried to grab his arm and tug it to get his attention when yells weren't enough.

The only positive to arise from such aggravation was that Sunstreaker discovered body paint and frame wax. He hoarded the stuff like energon itself.

His anger ignited into passion. With each new and properly maintained coat of paint, fingerprints left from grubby mechs vanished. From then on out, Sunstreaker had a new ultimatum for any and all he encountered: any mech who would dare touch him, speak to him, or even glance at him would receive a haughty glare and be ignored.

Soon after, war broke out. Autobots and Decepticons emerged. Luckily, some of the disgusting actions had died down when Sunstreaker and Sideswipe joined the Autobots; there wasn't much time to admire a frame when one had to focus on a battle.

Time passed. The war carried on to Earth following the crash of the Ark. But what mech wasn't familiar with that story at this point? Sunstreaker had actually looked forward to inhabiting the Earth. It was true that he despised all the organic filth that ruined his handiwork, but after awakening, a small part of his spark hoped for a new start. No more dirty glances or gropes.

How did the human phrase go? “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”?

He could still see the lust in his _team mates_ ' optics. He overheard pieces and fractions of conversations as he walked by.

No one could be trusted.

So be it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd. ;D


End file.
